Barber Surgeon
by hwshipper
Summary: Dan knew that most eyes would be on the man with floppy hair and large brown eyes, but Dan's gaze lingered on the older, taller guy with bright blue eyes and casually cultivated stubble. Ten Encounters House had with Dan, an OMC, and one he didn't.


**Title**: Barber/Surgeon: Ten Encounters House had with Dan (and one he didn't)  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Pairings**: House/Wilson, House/OMC (Dan)  
**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**Beta**: many thanks to starlingthefool

**Summary**: Story of House's relationship with Dan, an OMC.  
**A/N:** Follows the events of Let Me Take You To A…, early career House & Wilson.

**Barber/Surgeon: Ten Encounters House had with Dan (and one he didn't) **

_1- Flirting_

Dan looked up with interest as two strange men walked into the bar. Lots of other people did too: newcomers to the private upstairs bar were always scrutinized by the regulars, and the poker game was taking a breather. Dan knew that most eyes would be on the younger man with floppy hair and large brown eyes, but Dan's gaze lingered on the older, taller guy with bright blue eyes and casually cultivated stubble.

They headed for the bar. Dan headed there also. He noticed the bartender had served them without asking for money. These guys must have been personally invited up by someone from the club… Bob the manager, perhaps, or maybe even Chris, the owner.

Dan leaned on the bar next to the tall stubbled man, and was delighted when the man turned to him and asked, "Can we join the game?"

"The more the merrier," Dan replied, and held out a hand. "Hi, I'm Dan. You haven't been here before, have you?"

They shook hands. "No, we're just visiting. I'm Greg House. And this is James Wilson."

Wilson nodded politely, and Dan looked at the second man properly for the first time. Dan almost did a double take: stick a pair of specs on him, and he could have been Edward. Kind of. Well, there was no mystery about who had invited this pair up here. Chris would have come on to Wilson as soon as look at him.

Stopping himself gawking, Dan turned to House, admiring the blue eyes close up, and asked, "You play much, Greg?"

The man grimaced a little and said, "Call me House."

Dan and House started a poker conversation. Wilson didn't join in, choosing instead to stand back a bit. Dan took to House straight away, admiring his lean body and strong forearms, drawn to that curly hair and those blue eyes. House wasn't handsome in a conventional way like Wilson, yet he was certainly good-looking; raw and rugged, and far more interesting…

Dan leaned in towards House, gesturing to make a point, and let his hand brush House's arm. House didn't move away, although he didn't respond either. Dan saw Wilson's eyes narrow a little. Hm, so they were together. How annoying.

The poker players started to reassemble. House joined them, and Dan thought Wilson would have done too, except that Chris himself showed up at the same time and Wilson went over to talk to him. House and Wilson exchanged significant glances before Wilson went over to join Chris. For a second Dan wondered if there was some kind of game going on; but if so, House didn't look particularly happy about it. Chris was looking suave, his fair hair neat and a predatory glint in his gray eyes. Dan and his fellow poker players knew immediately that Chris was planning on getting laid this evening.

If Chris managed to prise Wilson away from House, maybe House would be on for some rebound sex…

Dan thought of Roz, his roommate; if she was there she would have rolled her eyes and said, "_For fuck's sake, Dan, leave him alone, he's got a boyfriend…"_ He decided to ignore this advice.

House sat down at the poker table.

"Smoke, House?" Dan offered a cigarette.

"Don't mind if I do." House took one, then leaned in close for a light. Dan snapped the lighter and fluttered fingertips against the back of House's hand, and this time House let his hand linger and brush back. Dan felt a prickle of desire run down his arm towards his groin. Hell, he liked this man. Liked him more than he'd liked anyone in a while.

There followed a fascinating half hour in which House and Dan flirted and argued in a good humored way over cards and cigarettes.

"So, what do you do, House?" Dan asked.

"I'm a doctor. I tell you that on the strict condition you don't start boring me with tedious health issues." House blew a neat smoke ring. "And you?"

"I'm a hairdresser. And no, I can't give you a quick trim; I don't have my scissors with me."

"A hairdresser?" House grinned. "I thought you'd be something more obviously gay."

Dan laughed. "Well, I thought about being a flight attendant or a fashion model, but they'd filled the queer quota that day at the career center. What kind of doctor are you?"

"I specialize in Infectious Diseases." House looked meditatively at his cards and rubbed his chin. "Where do you work? I could do with a decent shave, been on the road for a few days."

"No, you don't need a shave." Dan reached out boldly and brushed the back of his hand against House's cheek. It prickled and sent tiny pulses through Dan's body. "Stubble suits you just fine as it is."

"Some hairdresser you are, talking yourself out of a job," House said, and rubbed ever so slightly back against Dan's hand before pulling away.

Dan instinctively liked House. He was opinionated and argumentative, and clearly a bit of a bastard, and Dan didn't trust him at all with the cards; but he was also interesting and intelligent. And attractive.

Meanwhile Chris moved ever closer to Wilson over the other side of the room, and Dan mentally rooted for Chris. Then Dan saw one of the other poker players nudge his neighbor; Dan glanced across just in time to see Chris pulling Wilson to his feet, and the two of them headed off behind the bar and into the back offices.

House's face might as well have been granite for all his expression changed, but Dan sensed emotion churning below the surface. Dan chose to enlighten House and remarked, "If he's gone to the office, wait and listen for the squeals."

House glared at him, and looked as if he didn't want to ask, but couldn't help it. "What?"

"Chris's office is back there. He's got a couch we call the casting couch." Dan blew out a lungful of smoke. "Beautiful young men usually come out looking a bit more, uh, fucked, than when they went in."

House went absolutely rigid, and Dan was a little sorry he'd spoken. He hadn't wanted to anger or upset House, just to try and provoke a little jealousy. It looked like House was well and truly provoked, but unfortunately possibly not so as to benefit Dan.

As it happened, Wilson wasn't there long after all. The poker game had taken a break, and House was standing up and stretching with a grim look on his face, when Wilson emerged from behind the bar. He was carrying two glasses of whiskey in the same hand, and looked demure. House strode over to join Wilson.

"Chris get slapped down?" one of the poker players murmured, and there were a few nods of agreement.

Chris himself emerged a few minutes later, looking rather worse for wear and definitely not post-coital. One of the poker players nudged Dan and mimed a large sniff, and Dan nodded back and muttered, "Still horny and now high as well."

House rejoined the poker game, but didn't respond to Dan's gentle flirting any more. Dan mentally sighed. Looked like he wouldn't be getting lucky himself tonight either.

The evening wasn't quite over; as a while later Chris tried to jump Wilson in the bar in front of everyone and House punched him in the nose and knocked him down. House and Wilson left immediately: Chris sat on the floor, breathing heavily: Someone offered him a handkerchief and he pressed it to his nose.

"Sorry to disturb your evening, guys," Chris said, standing up slowly.

There were shrugs and _heys_ all round; they all liked Chris, he was a good guy. And it was his bar they were all drinking in, too, after all: they wanted him functioning on an even keel, and it was disconcerting that he just wasn't, right now.

Chris nodded thanks, and left. The group filtered slowly back to the poker table.

"Such a fucking shame," someone said, and there were nods all round. They all understood they were referring to Edward's decision to go back to his wife a couple of months ago, leaving Chris adrift at best, self-destructive at worst.

Dan sat down, lit a cigarette out of pure habit, and wondered if he would ever see House again. It seemed unlikely.

_

* * *

2 - One Night Stand_

Dan's boyfriend had booked them into a hotel in Princeton, near where he worked. Dan traveled up from his own home on the Jersey coast, checked into the room and settled downstairs to wait in the bar. A pianist sat nearby, tinkling out some mellow jazz.

However, when Larry arrived, he was breathless and apologetic; he couldn't stay after all. Work was manic, they had a big case coming up in court next week—

Dan was used to playing second fiddle to Larry's work schedule, as a high-profile high-price barrister Larry was always busy, but even so it was a blow. "I haven't seen you for weeks. And it'll be weeks before you can get away again, won't it?" He was upset and didn't try too hard to hide it.

"Dan, believe me I'm sorry, if there was anything I could've done, I would." Larry squeezed his hand, all they could manage in a public place, and even that was pretty risky, Dan knew. "Stay here for the night, the room's all paid up. Watch some pay-for TV and have room service on me."

Dan watched Larry leave, despondent at the prospect of an evening alone (and he'd been really psyched up for the sex, too) when another man dropped into the seat opposite him. Dan was vaguely aware that the piano music had stopped, and this was the pianist now sitting across from him.

"Count me in for free porn and food," he said, blue eyes gleaming.

Dan started in surprise. It was the same blue eyes as the man from Chris's bar: the one with the lanky frame and stubble. "House? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you." House twitched a hand, asking for a cigarette; Dan reached for the packet resting on the nearby table, and offered him one. "I live in Princeton," House amplified, as Dan fumbled for a light. "Got a job at Princeton General hospital a few months ago."

Dan glanced towards the piano. "And… they don't pay you enough, so you have to moonlight?"

"Hotel lets me play here on the weekends sometimes, keeps my fingers in trim until I can afford my own baby grand."

"Um, great," Dan said, dazed. "Well, I come up to Princeton quite often. Larry lives here."

House jerked a hand towards the door. "Boyfriend? Larry the lounge lizard there?"

Dan couldn't help but smile assent.

"He lives here but you meet in a hotel?" House asked bluntly.

"He's in a difficult position," Dan mumbled.

House raised an eyebrow, but didn't probe further. "Let's go get room service on Larry's tab."

Up in the room, they ordered champagne and steak, House ate like a lord. They sprawled companionably on the bed together to watch an action movie; they didn't touch, but Dan was very aware of House's body, just a few inches away.

The movie finished, and House started to channel hop through the TV menu. Dan wondered if that was it, that was all House was after: some food and entertainment and a bit of company for an evening. He sensed House was lonely. He recollected that House had just moved to Princeton; probably didn't know many people except at work, obviously didn't make friends easily anyway.

Dan was pretty lonely himself most of the time.

"Guess I'll be going," House said, snapping off the TV.

"Stay if you want," Dan said swiftly, careful to sound casual. He knew House wouldn't respond to begging, and certainly not anything that might be construed as pity.

House balanced the remote control on his palm, apparently weighing it up. Dan boldly reached out and touched House's arm, curling his fingers around House's firm bicep. House twitched a little, but didn't pull away.

"What about Loverboy Larry?" House asked.

"It's difficult." Dan flapped a hand, not wanting to explain too much. "We're not exclusive. Roz thinks I'm an idiot to keep hanging on for him, she's my roommate."

"You have a female roommate?" House seemed amused. "Fag hag?"

"I dare you to say that to her face. Roz is my best friend, we've known each other like forever. And she's had a steady girlfriend for the last four years. She says I only go out with losers."

"She's right," House opined.

Dan screwed up his face, and asked something he hadn't wanted to ask, but finally had to. "Anyway, what about Wilson?"

House looked away. "He lives four hours drive away and he's got a wife."

Dan listened, absorbing this, then curled an arm around House's neck and kissed him, trying to convey through lips and tongue, _that's cool_. House kissed him back, and suddenly everything was A-okay. Mouths fastened together, hands creeping over skin and under clothing, and mutual hunger seeping through and washing away doubts and inhibitions.

House took control, but in a gentle way; strong, slender fingers flicking Dan's belt undone, sliding down Dan's pants, arching around Dan's rapidly stiffening cock and making Dan gasp and shut his eyes. Dan wriggled out of his pants, and House did likewise; House was fully erect, as was Dan by now. House hissed through his teeth as Dan grasped his cock between both palms and rolled up and down; House reached down and slithered his own hand across Dan's tip. It was slippery with pre-come, and Dan groaned and felt his brain begin to short-circuit. A few minutes later first Dan and then House climaxed, cocks pressed up against each other, slipping and sliding in a sticky frenzy.

House slumped next to Dan and fell apparently unconscious immediately. Dan took a few minutes to settle down, and wanting to snuggle a little but not wanting to alienate House, placed a tentative hand on House's arm. House flinched, but stayed where he was, and Dan soon fell asleep, comfortably aware of the warmth of House's body next to him.

_

* * *

3. Doctor/Patient_

In the middle of the night, Dan was woken by a sharp stabbing pain in his right foot. Damnit, not this again. He lay still for a few minutes hoping it would just go away, but instead it got worse. It always did. And hell, he wasn't at home, he was at a hotel...

Eventually Dan flung the bed covers off, unable to take the weight of the fabric on his foot. He got up, gritting his teeth, grabbed his bag and hobbled to the bathroom. He rooted through his bag; nothing stronger than Advil. He swallowed a handful, and not wanting to disturb House, sat down on the toilet seat to sit and suffer until the pills kicked in. He propped his foot up on the edge of the bath, and lit a joint; he'd found it helped with the pain.

A short while later, House came wandering in and perched on the edge of the bath. Dan wordlessly offered the joint; House took a short drag and handed it back. They sat without talking for a bit, Dan mopping his brow with a handkerchief. His face was covered with a sheen of sweat.

"Pain relief?" House asked presently, nodding at the joint.

"Yeah. Old soccer injury," Dan said, trying to control the gasp in his breath.

House raised his eyebrows. "Soccer's for girls. Couldn't you at least get injured at a proper contact sport?"

"Ha ha." Dan gritted his teeth.

"What happened?" House asked, casting a critical eye in the direction of Dan's foot, although without getting any closer to it.

"Two years ago, I kicked the ball at an odd angle, that night my big toe flared up and I was in fucking agony." Dan shook his head at the memory. "Doctor said it was a nasty stress, gave me painkillers until it healed. It did, but the pain comes back every few months or so, just for a short time… though I think it may be getting worse."

House waited.

"Last time I got pain in my left foot too," Dan said, and uttered a short self-deprecating laugh. "I figure my other leg's just coming out in sympathy. Roz says I should go to the doctor, get it checked out again."

House looked thoughtfully at Dan's foot and said, "You really should just let Roz run your life, she sounds much more sensible than you. Go back to your doctor and get yourself tested for gout."

"Gout?" Through waves of pain, Dan frowned and tried to think what on earth he knew about gout. He associated it with old men and drinking port. "You're kidding me. I'm not old enough. Also this is the twentieth century."

House shook his head. "Nope, not kidding. You'd certainly be on the young side—how old are you?"

"Twenty-four. I got this when I was twenty-two!"

"Unusual, but not unheard of." House was firm. "Go see your doctor. You can get pills that will help control the attacks."

"All right," Dan said, dizzy from another burst of pain. "Talk to me, House, take my mind off it."

"I don't do small talk." House considered for a minute. "It'll have to be big talk. What's the big secret with Loverboy Larry? Apart from being married."

Dan laughed through gnawing pain. "I suppose that was obvious. Well, he's going to leave her, but he's got a family. His two kids are young, always getting ill and being in accidents, there's lots of parent evenings and sports days and concerts to go to…"

"And in the meantime you're his mistress?"

Dan flushed.

"Larry the Lothario is obviously never going to leave his wife." House was matter-of-fact.

"Yes he will, he's just waiting until the kids are a bit older."

"How old? Sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one?"

"Just a bit older than they are now," Dan mumbled. "They're only small, he just doesn't want to leave his wife with all the work. They're only together for the sake of the kids. He doesn't even sleep with her any more."

He knew it sounded ridiculous even as he said it, and House's snort of contemptuous disbelief rang through the room and echoed off the tiles.

"Anyway, what about you?" Dan demanded, feeling the need to hit back. "Wilson's married, isn't he?"

"Completely different."

"Like how?"

"Wilson is in his second crappy marriage with no kids which is obviously never going to last. He just marks time until his wives give up on him in disgust," House proclaimed. "Whereas Loser Larry is obviously a happy family man, who is unusual only in that he gets his kicks from keeping a hot young man instead of a hot young woman on the side."

"You're wrong," Dan said determinedly

House yawed and stood up. "I'm going back to bed. Coming?"

"Did that earlier," Dan said with a brave attempt at humor.

House rolled his eyes and said, "Excruciating pain is no excuse for dumb puns."

_

* * *

4- Hairdresser/Client_

House left the hotel after breakfast the next morning, before they quite got round to having any kind of 'shall we meet again?' conversation. Dan put it off because he felt it would make House run a mile. He knew where House worked, he could find House again if he wanted. And House knew where he worked now, too, Dan had told him the name of the hairdresser's. He'd only referred to it casually but he knew House hadn't missed it.

Dan was delighted when House turned up unexpectedly at the salon a couple of weeks later.

"This is not my usual kind of establishment," House made clear, looking around the salon, which was all stark white walls and gleaming chrome fittings. "I do need to be able to afford rent and food after I've had my hair cut."

"This one on the house," Dan assured him, and sat House down in a chair. "So, what do you want done?"

"Just a bit shorter all over," Houses said, and they quibbled for a moment over how short.

"So, how's the old soccer injury?" House asked, as Dan buzzed the clippers gently close to House's left ear.

"You were right," Dan was delighted to be able to tell House. "I got the tests done, it's gout. My doctor was astonished. I told him you figured it out without even examining it."

He continued to clip, one eye fixed firmly on the job, the other watching House in the mirror as closely as he could. House was sporting a quarter inch of stubble and looked great, he really did, the shorter hair suited him very nicely. His eyes were half closed, but Dan could still see a brilliant blue gaze bouncing back off the mirror.

"You've got pills?" House asked, his tone relaxed and languid.

"Yes. It's a huge relief to know what the problem is, I used to really fear these sudden sharp attacks. Not any more."

"You know, in medieval times you would have been practicing medicine as well as cutting hair," House remarked. "Barber surgeons. They were out there on the battlefield with their knives, saving lives."

"That is a scary thought." Dan put the clippers down, and ran a hand lightly over the top of House's head. House closed his eyes briefly.

"Male pattern baldness run in your family?" Dan asked. He could feel the hair at House's crown was noticeably thinner than at the sides.

"Fucking nerve you've got, I bet you don't say that to all your customers." House grinned. "Well, my dad doesn't have _androgenetic alopecia,_ but that doesn't mean anything as he's not my dad anyway." Dan blinked, first at the Latin and then at the dad thing, and figured it was better to let it all pass. "My maternal grandfather, on the other hand... I may be doomed."

"You can embrace it. Come back when it gets worse and I'll shave your head for you."

House smiled a little, but didn't reply. Dan picked up a large wedge-shaped soft-bristled brush and dusted tiny bits of hair off the back of House's neck. He flicked it back and forth a couple of times more than necessary, and tickled each of House's earlobes briefly.

House wriggled a little in the chair, then said, "Now that would make a good sex toy."

Dan snorted with laughter. "I wouldn't dare bring it back to work afterwards." He held a mirror up so House could see the back of his head. "How's that?"

"I suppose it'll do."

Dan pulled the towel off House's shoulders and said as casually as possible, "You want to go for coffee or something?"

_

* * *

5. Revenge fuck_

They went to a nearby Starbucks. But once settled with coffee, House had an unexpected bomb to drop.

"I've got you a present. But be warned, it's not good news." House dropped an envelope on the table.

Dan picked it up, and pulled out a sheaf of photocopies. They seemed to be medical records of some sort.

"What the hell is this?" Dan demanded, suddenly full of dread.

"This is Mrs. Loverboy Larry's medical file from Princeton General," House said. "She's seven months pregnant with their third child. And he obviously hasn't told you."

"You're lying!"

"Nope. I saw her, she's like the side of a house. In fact, I met her." House paused. "I may have accidentally given her the impression that I worked in OB-GYN. Anyway, she was quite happy to chat about how she'd been trying for this pregnancy for a while, how thrilled she and her husband were when it happened, and how much they were looking forward to having another baby."

Dan threw the envelope down and papers scattered in all directions. "Fuck you, House, I never asked you to go poking your nose around my private life!"

"You'd rather remain in blissful ignorance?" House said, with scorn.

Dan fumed for a minute, but couldn't stay angry; he was fundamentally too good-natured and rational. It wasn't nice, but if he was honest with himself he'd suspected something major had been wrong with Larry… House had done him a favor.

"Thank-you," he eventually mumbled, stuffing the papers back in the envelope.

House was watching him intently. "I hope you're going to tell him where to go. Otherwise you're going to have to wait a lot longer than you thought for all the kids to grow up."

"Yes. God, I feel stupid… Roz says I'm a loser magnet, she's so right." Dan sighed, then shook himself briefly, like a dog shaking water off its back. He looked at House and dipped his eyes. "Come back to my place."

"Revenge fuck?" House said bluntly.

"Do you care?"

House looked squarely back at him, and shrugged very slightly.

Back in Dan's apartment, they watched some TV, sitting in dim light, sipping whiskey and occasionally making remarks that didn't require response. They sat close on the couch, but didn't touch. Dan gave House ample opportunity, resting an arm along the back of the couch, occasionally leaning in towards House to gesture when making a point, but House wasn't responding just yet. Dan guessed House had Wilson on his mind; and he didn't want to push.

Late in the evening, Dan said, "I'm going to bed." He paused. "Feel free to join me."

House didn't reply, but sat in the armchair, swilling whiskey around the glass.

It was perhaps an hour later that House came into the bedroom. Dan had dozed off, but woke at the movement next to him. He rolled over sleepily and opened his eyes, to find House settling down.

"Hey," Dan whispered.

House turned towards him, and they kissed. It was long, and sweet. Dan sighed a little into House's mouth, and House sighed back, and they didn't need to talk.  
In the morning, Dan cooked bacon and home fries for breakfast, and he and House ate companionably without exchanging more than a few words about the weather and other uncontroversial topics

"I'll be off," House said afterwards.

Dan thought that they both wanted the same thing; neither after a committed relationship, but each lonely enough to seek some warmth and companionship. He would have liked to ask questions, like _will I see you again? shall we meet next weekend?_ But sensing that House didn't want to look that far ahead, and guessing his best chance of seeing more of House lay in not pushing, he just nodded, and didn't ask questions.

_

* * *

6. Friends with Benefits_

The following weekend, House called to say that if Dan had nothing better to do, House would come down to visit. Dan said simply, "It'll be good to see you."

And somehow from then on, they fell into a pattern of meeting maybe every three weeks or so; House driving down to the coast, or Dan driving up to Princeton, or meeting at a bar or restaurant along the way. They chatted, and flirted, and usually ended up in bed somewhere.

It remained an essentially casual relationship. Dan didn't think it was ideal, it certainly wasn't romantic. But it was fun, it made Dan happy, and he sensed it made House happier than he would have been otherwise. Dan knew instinctively that Wilson was _the_ one for House; that whatever Dan could have with House would not compete with or endanger whatever House had with Wilson. But there was mutual affection and shared intimacy that Dan very much appreciated, and that he wouldn't have had at all otherwise.

Dan did his best not to mind the absentee Wilson in their relationship, indeed teased House about the number of times House was apt to mention Wilson in conversation without realizing it. Dan was amused to see House eventually become self-conscious about it, although he tried to hide it.

Once House blew him off at short notice because Wilson was going to be around, and that really stuck in Dan's craw. He was all set to drive up to Princeton, only to find a message on his answering machine at the last minute: _"Change of plan. Wilson's coming over, all excited because he's got a big new job at Penn. Next week, perhaps?"_

Dan left a slightly terse message in return. The following week he vented some spleen. "Charming message you left for me."

House shrugged, indifferent, and Dan knew if he wanted to be with House, he would have to put up with this kind of shit.

It was inevitable that at some point House would run into Dan's roommate Roz, and indeed this happened the third time they met and went back to Dan's apartment. Roz was watching TV in the living room when they walked in.

"House, this is my roommate Roz." Dan did the introductions. "Roz, this is Greg House, I've mentioned him to you."

"You certainly have," she said, eying House suspiciously.

Dan was in the habit of confiding most stuff in Roz. He'd also mentioned the Wilson complication, at which point she had roundly told him off for fucking around with someone who already had a boyfriend, even if it was a married one who lived many miles away.

"I thought you'd look more stereotypically lesbian," House said brightly to Roz.

Dan excused himself hastily and went into the kitchen to find a bottle of wine. He left the door open and eavesdropped shamelessly.

"You do know that Dan is pathologically incapable of picking decent men to go out with," he heard Roz say.

"And he'd be much better off if he just stayed at home with you, right?" House was caustic.

"Bullshit. You only prove my point, you're obviously bad news. Dan says you're in love with someone else."

Dan cringed. There was a pause.

"Dan's got a big mouth," House said presently.

"And you'd know," Roz supplied the punchline. "Look, it's me who picks up the pieces each time someone craps on him. You make him happy instead, and we're cool. Alright?"

"Yes Mom," House responded, and Dan couldn't help but grin. A minute later Roz joined him in the kitchen, and miracle of miracles, she was smiling.

"Charming fucker, isn't he? I'll leave you two alone for the night… have fun."

They watched the end of a film they'd both seen before; Dan rested his head on House's shoulder, and as the credits rolled, they started making out. Dan eventually suggested they go to bed, and House acquiesced.

_

* * *

7- Old Acquaintances_

It didn't end so much as peter out. The gaps between their meetings grew, and eventually stopped. Dan assumed that House had finally hooked up with Wilson. He knew Wilson had now moved to Penn and therefore lived much closer to House than previously. He also suspected that Wilson had gotten divorced, and House just hadn't bothered to let him know.

He discovered what had actually happened when he ran into House in Atlantic City, of all places. He and Roz had gone there for her birthday, with a large rowdy crowd intent on having fun and spending some money. Dan was busy feeding a slot machine when Roz rushed up to him, her eyes bright and wide.

"Dan, look--it's House. And he's with a woman!" Roz hissed.

Dan looked across the casino floor, and it was indeed House, and not alone; he was walking along with a tall woman with a confident stride and bobbed brown hair. They were holding hands. Girlfriend, how about that.

Dan hesitated, wanting to go up to them, not wanting to cause trouble.

"Beard?" Roz muttered, and Dan nodded gratefully. He got up and headed towards House and the woman.

"Hey, House!" Dan waved across the room.

House's eyebrows hit his (receding) hairline when he saw who it was. Dan grabbed Roz's arm, and propelled her across the room.

"House, nice to see you again," Dan said, a trifle breathless. "You remember Roz?" He threw an arm around Roz's shoulders, knowing this wouldn't fool House for a nanosecond. Roz beamed at House, playing along. House's eyes narrowed a fraction, but he took the cue.

"Indeed I do. Stacy, this is Dan and Roz, happiest couple in all of the world," House said smoothly. "Dan, Roz, this is Stacy."

Dan smiled at Stacy and tried to look unassuming.

"Dan's an old acquaintance of mine," House added. Dan supposed that was one way to describe it.  
"Pleased to meet you." Stacy held out a hand, and they shook. Her handshake was firmer than his was.

"Stacy, I just _love_ your shoes," Roz said, and if Dan hadn't known her better he would never have guessed she wasn't sincere. "What are they?"

Stacy was wearing a tall pair of red heels. She looked a little surprised, but answered readily enough. As she and Roz dropped into a conversation about shoes, Dan edged slightly away, and House shifted along with him.

"So, how are you?" Dan asked cautiously.

"Fine and dandy."

"And you're going out with Stacy?..."

"Actually, I'm living with her." House looked straight at Dan.

"No shit." This wasn't the first girlfriend Dan had heard about, he'd always known House swung both ways, but it was still a surprise. Living with her?—it must be serious. House wouldn't allow just anyone that close to him easily. "Um, congratulations. How's Wilson?"

"He's good. Working a fellowship at Penn. Not currently married, though of course that could change." House avoided going anywhere near what on earth Wilson made of Stacy, and moved the conversation swiftly on. "We shouldn't meet again."

Dan held up a hand to prevent House expanding. He got it. "If that's what you want. Look, we can still be friends, right?"

House looked away. "I'm no good at friends."

It hurt, but Dan straightened his shoulders a little and stood upright. "Fine."

"You should find yourself a decent boyfriend," House said unexpectedly. "Get Roz to set you up with somebody. Alright?" And before Dan could answer, House stepped back towards Stacy, said loudly, "Stacy, the poker table is calling," and the next thing Dan knew, House and Stacy were walking away, and he was left standing there with Roz.

Roz took his arm. "Forget him, Dan, he's a bastard."

"I always knew that," Dan said sadly, and they walked away.

_

* * *

8. Booty Call  
_  
Dan certainly never expected to see House again after that, but several years later he did, and the circumstances were unexpected. Dan was home one weekend, it was late at night, Roz was out and Dan was in the middle of a pleasant night in front of the TV, when there was a knock at the door.

"Hey! I just thought I'd drop by," House said, stepping over the doorstep.

"Um, hey." Dan was uncertain what to make of this. Hadn't House said he didn't want to meet again? "Uh--what on earth are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood, thought it would be good to look you up." House was breezy.

Dan didn't believe this for a second. House was here for a reason. "You can't just come barging in after all this time! It's been _years_! You can't expect--" He didn't know what House might expect. "Expect to get a warm welcome, especially at this time of night." Dan glanced at the clock in the hallway; 11 PM, for Christ's sake.

And then he took a second look at House; same blue eyes, same stubble, same hair--definitely thinner, and going a little gray at the temples. But one difference; House was grasping a cane. Leaning on it. Leaning heavily on it.

"Have you been in an accident?" Dan asked, suddenly hesitant.

"Nope," House said, striding past Dan despite a pronounced limp. He headed into the living room and plumped himself down on the couch. "Roz not around?"

"No… House, I should tell you, I'm kind of going out with someone else at the moment.."

"Kind of? What does that mean?"

"Well, no sooner did we start going out then he announced he was going off to take a job on the west coast. I had to lend him the fare. And I was looking forward to visiting him out there but he keeps making excuses that he's busy…."

House looked pained. "Dan. I don't need to know one scrap of further information to know you've hooked up with another loser."

Dan didn't want to talk about himself. It was none of House's business anymore, anyway. And there were more important things to ask about; that had been a serious limp. He looked at the cane resting in House's hand. "Whatever. House, what happened to your leg?"

"I had an infarction, about six months ago." House spoke briskly. "Muscle cell death. It's crippled me for life. Wanna see?"

"Um…" No.

"I want to show you." And House stood up and dropped his pants, right there in the living room.

Dan just had time to think _be cool!_, before failing utterly to be so. He felt his jaw hang in horror at the sight of a huge black crater in House's thigh.

Dan remembered that thigh; remembered it as whole and strong and muscular. He knew House as fit and healthy; running, jumping to catch a Frisbee in the park. He remembered being fucked by House standing up, his own body pinned against a wall, House supporting the weight of both their bodies on two hefty thighs…

"Hideous, isn't it?" House was watching Dan carefully.

"Yes." No point sugar coating anything for House.

House threw back his head and laughed hollowly. "Now why the hell can Stacy not just say that? Thank-you for being honest."

"It must hurt like fuck," Dan ventured.

"Think of your gout," House said. "Pretty fucking agonizing, isn't it? Now, imagine the pain doesn't just come on every few months, but is there _all the fucking time._ Every minute of every day and night. On and on and on."

Dan was silent.

"And all the pills don't control it, don't manage it, they only dull it. And you always limp, always, regardless of whether the pain is crucifying or only simply unbearable. People see you as a cripple, and nothing more. If they don't know you, they talk down to you. If they do know you, they pity you."

Dan gulped a little.

"And your girlfriend of five years can hardly bear to look at you, however much she protests otherwise," House hammered on remorselessly. "And is oh so understanding when you can't get it up. Because the pain is all you can think of, and it's all you can do to eat and sleep and go to work, with that relentless, unforgiving pain."

"I've got no idea." Dan spread his hands out.

"And your best friend is racked by guilt because he was three thousand miles away when it happened. And your mother is heartbroken because she can't do anything to help, and your fucking father is concealing his disappointment at his half-assed son letting him down, as usual."

"House, stop," Dan implored. "It sucks, I can't possibly understand, I get it. What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me," House said unexpectedly, and Dan looked at him in astonishment.

"Really?"

"If you can bring yourself to do it with a cripple. And don't tell me that the leg doesn't make any difference, don't you dare fucking tell me that I'm still me and that's what matters… I get that from Stacy and from Wilson, it's a lie and I'm sick of it."

Dan opened his mouth to speak, then figured it was best to shut it again, as he had no idea what to say, and felt it likely that whatever he said was likely to aggravate House. Instead he stepped up to House and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Whatever crap House threw at him, however long it had been since they'd last met, Dan knew he would always have a soft spot for House--or rather, a hard spot. Certainly the feel of that familiar stubble rasping against his own smooth cheek immediately sent his cock rocking upright in his pants. What could House do with a leg like that?... Dan was super-aware of the big black scar up against his own healthy thigh.

Dan walked House through to his bedroom and excused himself briefly to go to the bathroom. He returned to find House lying flat on the bed, ass upwards. Dan didn't need any further invitation, stripped rapidly, groped in the nightstand for a condom, and mounted House with alacrity. It was a fast and furious fuck; Dan gave House a reach-around, sending House shooting into his fist with very little trouble, and then relished an ass-fuck that was somewhat tighter than it had been last time five years before. Dan crashed onto the bed afterwards and lay panting, both exhilarated and shocked.

After a minute, House stirred, then reached out and groped for his pants. He found a pill bottle in a pocket, and swallowed two in one gulp. He then sat up.

"House—" Dan propped himself up on an elbow, still groggy. "You're leaving, already?"

"Yes. Wham, bam, thank-you mister."

"You mean, that's it?"

"Yes. That's it." House reached for his cane, and hauled himself to his feet. "Consider yourself well and truly used. Go cry on Roz's shoulder."

"I don't want—"

"No." House's voice rose to a roar. " I told you I was no good at being friends. Now kindly fuck off and leave me alone."

And House strode out of the door, and was gone.

_

* * *

9 Informant  
_  
A year later, Dan was at work, having a very average kind of day at the salon, when he found the next client in his chair gazing at him in the mirror with innocent blue eyes.

"You've got some fucking nerve!" Dan couldn't believe it.

"I need a haircut. And I need to know about Chris," House stated.

This.... made sense. Dan had seen Chris at the club last week with a very familiar figure--somehow he'd started a relationship with Wilson. Dan shook his head. "You trust me with a pair of scissors close to your ear, after last time?"

"I thought you wouldn't be able to resist telling me how much my hair's thinned since then," House said brightly. "Even though that's a complete lie, of course."

After a moment's hesitation Dan ran a hand through House's hair and said, "Fine: but this is not on the house. Pun fully intended. And you _are_ still thinning... The usual?"

As Dan began to clip away at House's hair, House said, "So tell me about your latest loser boyfriend. Because there's bound to be one."

"He seemed nice." Dan sighed, slipping into storyteller mode. "Right up until he vanished and I found he'd taken my wallet with him."

"Bastard," House opined helpfully.

They went for coffee afterwards, where Dan made House pay and in return told him everything he knew about Chris, which wasn't a great deal. Dan and Roz had moved some way down the coast and Dan didn't hang out in Chris's club as much as he had once. He'd seen Chris and Wilson together, even played in the same poker game as Wilson, but deliberately not spoken to him. Dan wanted to keep his distance.

As he spoke, Dan realized he'd forgotten how attractive House could be. Dan tried to flirt a little, but House stonewalled back. Dan wondered if House would respond to an overture. He stretched his legs out a little under the table, nudging House's sneaker-clad foot with his own.

"I'm not going to have sex with you," House said bluntly.

"Well, that told me." Dan pulled his feet back and lit a cigarette, sheepish.

"I shouldn't have done last time," House said, and nothing could have surprised Dan more than this admission. Wow. This was tantamount to an apology.

"No, you shouldn't," Dan said, but his tone was only mock severe. Truth was, he didn't bear House any ill-will.

_

* * *

10 Just friends_

It was a year before Dan ran into House again, and it felt like coming full circle back to when they'd first met. A chance meeting at Chris's bar, and House with someone else. But this time it wasn't Wilson; it was a guy with a mane of blond hair and a wary look in his greeny-blue eyes.

"House!" Dan was swift to hail him.

"Fuck me. Dan the man." House's eyes gleamed. "Dan, this is Gary, Gary, this is Dan. Any chance of getting us in the upstairs bar, Dan?"

Dan was only too pleased to take them up to the invitation-only upstairs bar. He observed on the way that Gary was suspicious of his intentions towards House, and said loudly, "So, great to see you again House. And I have to tell you about my fabulous new boyfriend..."

This put Gary at ease, and up in the bar Dan was able to chat happily to House for a few minutes while Gary was otherwise occupied.

"So, does the current boyfriend treat you any better than any previous boyfriend of yours in the world ever?" House asked.

Dan laughed. "You won't think so."

"Crap." House's tone was indulgent. "Break it to me."

"He's… quite a lot older than me." Dan paused. "To cut a long story short, he's an important local politician."

"And you're his dirty little secret." House sighed. "What does Roz think?"

"That I'm his dirty little secret," Dan acknowledged. He saw Gary was absorbed in talking to Chris, and dropped his voice. "Enough about me. Tell me about Gorgeous Gary here."

House shrugged, deliberately over-casual. "He moved in upstairs from me. We get on. That's it."

Later over poker Dan managed to ask, "And how's Wilson?"

"Married," House said brutally.

"What a senseless waste," Dan's reaction was instinctive. He had heard Wilson's relationship with Chris had ended, and mentally ascribed this to House; he hadn't heard that Wilson had gotten married again. "Third time lucky?"

"But of course." House blew a smoke ring. "This is _the _one, of course. Her name's Julie. They got married on impulse in Vegas, him hard on the rebound from our friendly neighborhood bar owner here."

"Ah." Dan shook his head, knowing House was _the _one for Wilson; and yet with Wilson married and House here with Gary, what to say?

At the end of the evening he managed a final brief conversation with House, who cautioned him against the local politician but added, "You're never going to break this pattern of losers, are you?"

Dan looked at House demurely, and batted his eyelashes. "Not unless you make an honest man of me."

House threw back his head and laughed, a rare sight. "Roz would caution you against that. And she'd be quite right."

"Because no matter what, there's always Wilson," Dan said.

"Wilson on my mind," House admitted with a rueful nod. He stood up to go. "I'll see you around."

Dan hoped he would.

_

* * *

11 And one time he didn't_

It turned out to be years later before Dan saw House around, and even then, they didn't even actually meet.

Dan was with his boyfriend at a jazz club when he saw House and Wilson through the dark smoky haze; next to each other in a semi-circular booth, hunkered down in the padded leather seats, all looped arms and roaming hands and heads on shoulders. It took Dan just one glance to know that finally, _finally,_ House and Wilson had found some sort of peace together.

They looked, Dan thought, very cute. And House's hair looked like it had stopped thinning. In fact, it looked thicker than he remembered it being.

Dan decided not to disturb them. They hadn't seen him. Part of him would have liked to have told House about how he'd finally, _finally,_ found a boyfriend who he'd been going out with for three years now and was apparently still not a loser... but he didn't want to have an awkward 'this is my ex' conversation with his boyfriend, nor to cause House to have such a conversation with Wilson.

In a gap between bands later on, members of the audience wandered up to have a go playing a piano in a far corner. Dan was on his own at the bar waiting to be served when he heard a familiar strain and looked across the room to see House taking a turn, eyes closed, fingers nimble, rolling out a soulful tune for all and sundry. It was nice to hear House play again; Dan shut his own eyes and stood still for a moment, lost in the music.

"Hey," said a voice next to him.

Dan opened his eyes, startled, to find Wilson standing a foot away.

"Uh. Hi," Dan said, lamely, not knowing what to make of this. He hadn't spoken to Wilson for a very long time indeed; not since the first time he'd met House all those years ago at the club.

"Dan, right?" Wilson waved at the barman. "What can I get you?"

"Um, whiskey, anything. Two, I'm with someone," Dan said, awkwardly, glancing over his shoulder. Wilson ordered four Makers Marks, on the rocks.

"I spotted you when House went off to the piano--he didn't see you--and I thought you looked familiar. You used to go out with House, didn't you?" Wilson asked, as they waited for the drinks.

"Yeah. Years ago," Dan hastened to clarify. "Long long time ago, I think you were married at the time." He hesitated. "I didn't know you knew."

"Well, House never actually told me, but yeah, I knew." The drinks arrived; Wilson handed bills to the barman.

"He diagnosed my gout. We got on well." Dan knew he was rambling.

"It was okay," Wilson said unexpectedly. "You made him happy, back at a time when he was lonely, and I couldn't help."

Dan shuffled his feet uncomfortably and muttered, "But you look happy together now?"

"Yes." Wilson looked a little surprised. "It took us more than twenty years but... yes, we are happy now."

Dan peered across the room at House, paused to remember the medical term House had taught him, and said diffidently, "I can't help thinking... I'm a hairdresser, you know... that his _androgenetic alopecia_ looks like it's taken a turn for the better. I was wondering if he'd got some...artificial help?"

Wilson got it, and his face glinted with amused mischief. "I couldn't possibly comment. But I'm an oncologist, you know... I have a lot of patients with hair loss. I'm well connected with toupee makers." He winked, brown eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Look, nice meeting you. See you around."

"Uh, yeah." Dan watched Wilson head off through the crowd towards his seat, deftly carrying two glasses in one hand.

Dan took a sip of his drink, and felt a warm feeling coursing through his chest that wasn't just from the whiskey.

END


End file.
